All is Fair in Love and Pranks
by JustAFlick
Summary: A comedy of errors influenced by Cyrano, You've Got Mail, and my take on the world of lajulie. Written for the Han and Leia Secret Santa Exchange on tumblr. It's all in good fun - enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

Luke had never been so happy. He'd thought he'd known happiness when he he'd flown his first X-wing. He thought he'd felt it when he'd blown up the Death Star and become a hero of the rebellion. But, those things, it turned out, were nothing compared to the weight of Wedge Antilles' arm around his shoulders.

He'd just slung it around Luke in a moment of laughter after he'd said something completely ridiculous about Han and Leia. The Rogues, quietly and then not so quietly, had been running a betting pool on the two of them for over a year now. Luke felt a little bad about it sometimes - he thought of Han and Leia as his best friends. But, he couldn't help but poke fun every once in a while. For one thing, they were absurdly obvious in their frustrated feelings for each other and for another…well…Wedge.

"You know," Wedge said, solid arm still draped across Luke's neck warming him up in the chill of their second Hoth night. "You have special access to our dynamic duo, you ever think of…helping them along?"

Another, smaller roar followed, this one both excited and wary.

"Are you suggesting we rig the game, Antillies?" Hobbie accused over the rim of his beer.

"Nahhh, just…move things along. Do we really want to spend another year talking about this?"

Again, the response was mixed - the Rogues gained considerable pleasure from this ongoing debate - but then eventually they settled on a _probably not?_

"Alright, so," Wedge's breath tickled Luke's ear as he reached up and ruffled his hair. "Luke's just made Commander - he owes us another prank."

Luke groaned, "The last time you almost got me kicked off the base."

Wes guffawed at this and Hobbie countered, "You really think a rebellion - let alone one as flat broke and hopeless as this one - is gonna turn away a bonafide Hero with a capital H?"

Luke colored a little as the guys stared him down and turned his face into Wedge's shoulder before straightening up and saying. "Alright — what'd you have in mind?"

The plan was simple. Make Han jealous. (Though it had taken an embarrassingly long time to come up with. Luke could blame that more on the fire whiskey than on the Rogue's collective brain power.) He would play up the old crush he'd had on Leia - back when he'd thought pilots could only be buddies - and tell Han he was finally going to make a move. Five out of six of the Rogues were sure it would be enough to spur him into action.

"Han's not gonna stand by and watch the blue-eyed wonder steal his girl," Wes said.

"Wouldya stop calling me that?" Luke whined.

Wes held up his hands, "Wasn't me who started it. Talk to Wedge."

"But, Han likes Luke," the usually taciturn Tycho pointed out. "He may not want to interfere."

The men paused for a moment to consider this before unanimously shaking their heads.

"No way, he's Han Solo. He won't back down."

* * *

As he boarded the Falcon, Luke tried to remind himself of his mission rather than dissect Wedge's blue-eyed comment for the hundredth time. Did guys usually notices other guys eyes? Did that rhyme?

"Kid," Han said, snapping his fingers in front of said blue-eyes, "what are you doin' here?"

Luke blinked at Han, willing visions of tall, dark pilots out of his head and summoning thoughts of small, sisterly princesses instead.

"It's Leia," his voice jumped a little at the end of her name, "I mean, I have to talk to you about Leia," he tried again, voice now unnaturally low.

Han gave him a queer look before shrugging his shoulders and telling him to come in.

"If you're asking me to go on another death-defying mission that costs me parts and patience rather than making me any credits, the answer is no."

"It's not about a mission," Luke said, raising his hand nervously to the back of his neck. He'd never been a good actor. He was a pilot, and maybe a mystical warrior of old, but not an actor. "It's not about the rebellion at all in fact."

Han turned back to him and squinted again. Luke couldn't tell if it was the dimness of the hallway or Han's usual blend of skepticism and curiosity.

"So, what's it about?"

Luke swallowed, "Can you pour me a drink?"

Han shook his head, but beckoned him into the common space. He slipped into the galley and returned with two glasses and a bottle of whiskey.

"I pour, you talk," he said, gracefully uncapping the bottle and tipping its amber contents neatly into each glass.

"I want to date Leia," Luke said in a blind rush, before grabbing the nearest glass and throwing it back. He immediately proceeded to choke and cough like a maniac, holding onto the side of the holo table like it was the side of a sand skiff over the Dune Sea.

He finally managed to pull himself together. With a few uneven breaths and a toss of his too-long hair, he chanced a glance at Han.

The look on the pirate's face was far from what the young Jedi expected.

The side of his mouth was quirked up, and his eyes had a soft sort of gentleness, unlike anything Luke had ever seen from the veteran spacer. There was still some laughter lurking in that smirk, but there was no anger, no sadness and no disbelief.

"I want to date Leia," Luke said again, clearly and a little more emphatically, somehow sure that Han hadn't heard him correctly.

"Heard you the first time, kid," Han said, before lifting his glass to his lips and taking a much more measured sip of Corellian whiskey.

"And..and you're okay with that?"

Luke snapped his mouth shut, painfully aware that he was being completely unsubtle - what would Wedge do? Probably shake his head and face palm. - but he couldn't help feeling flustered and a tad bit annoyed.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Han asked, cool as a crispcumber, sipping his drink once again.

"Well…I mean," Luke stuttered, staring into his glass, "Well, why else have you stuck around?"

Han's eyes flashed a bit at that and he swirled the whiskey in his glass to the rhythm of his next statement, "For the money."

Luke's mouth fell open at this, ready to argue, to call Han's buff, but the spacer didn't even blink, returning to his drink as if he were rather bored.

 _So much for throwing him into a blind, jealous rage,_ Luke thought. _What am I supposed to do now?_

"Well, I guess I'll just go date her then," Luke said, sounding about as deflated as he felt. He slid the glass back toward Han and rose to go.

"Just one minute, pal," Han said, stopping Luke in his tracks. Luke turned back smiling, sure this was the moment he'd been waiting for.

"You're gonna need my help."

Luke started to answer, then stopped. Thought. Then started again.

"What in blue blazes—"

"You really think you can bag a princess with the moves your sporting now?"

Now that was just mean.

Luke puffed up his chest and stretched to his full height (aka tilted his chin up so he kind of looked down his nose).

"In case you've forgotten, I'm a war hero and a recently promoted Commander of the Rogue Squadron."

Han waited for him to finish all patient like. Then added:

"You're also a virgin."

Luke tried to argue but the fierce blush dancing across his face sort of ruined that one for him.

"Don't worry about it, kid. You came to the right place. I know how to woo a woman."

Luke looked around the empty echo of the Falcon then back at Han who had crossed his arms.

"Doesn't mean I want to keep 'em."

It was too much for a tipsy, virgin Jedi to take in, so Luke let himself sink back onto the acceleration couch and listen to the rest of Han's pitch.

"You're never gonna get her by acting like a dopey, starstruck dolt. No offense."

Luke reached for the whiskey. "Some taken."

"You've gotta be cool. You've gotta be mysterious. And most of all, you've gotta treat her like a woman. Not a princess."

* * *

Leia wished for just one moment as she returned tiredly to her quarters that she could be a princess once more. Of course, she still held the title. She still held the responsibility. But, the perks were greatly diminished.

In her old life, after arguing all day at the Senate or attending local functions at home, she would be greeted at her door by a fleet of efficient servants. They'd glide forward on silent feet and make sure she was undressed, groomed, and laid into bed before she could even crack a yawn. She may have been spoiled, but she'd always known she was lucky.

Now, at 3AM after another interminable strategy meeting that seemed to have only riled her rather than really solved anything, Leia returned to a far different scene.

Her door swung open and she was greeted by a wave of air even more freezing than the hallway. In order to maintain the structure of their current base, command had insisted personnel turn off their heating systems when their room was unoccupied. Clothes littered the floor, her bed was unmade, and an alarming pile of papers and news holos teetered on its corner.

Her greatest secret, carefully guarded by the Alderaanian Royal House Staff: Leia was a slob.

She was about to shove the papers off and deal with the fallout in the morning, when her foot slipped on something directly beneath it.

She squinted down at the floor and found the culprit. A little piece of paper, glossy against the duracrete slab. She bent down to retrieve it and throw it in with the rest of the detritus, when she caught a glimpse of a gaudy holo on the front.

It was a postgram, featuring a brightly colored tourist scene and some black scrawl on the back. Leia was sure she'd never seen it before.

Forgetting her exhaustion for the moment, she crossed to her bed and held the postgram under her rigged up reading light. Leia skimmed with the efficiency of a droid, blinked, sank down onto her bed, then started again.

 _Leia,_

 _I think you knew this was coming. I know I did. It wasn't from the first moment I saw you. That moment was a blur, and you were just a bright smudge within it. But, as time went on things got clearer, and you got clearer too. You aren't just a leader, you would give your life for any_ _damn_ _person on this base whether he cleaned out muck tanks or flew a warship. You aren't just a firebrand, you have a mouth that could build a man up just as easily as you could tear him down. You aren't just my friend, you're a woman who I can't stop thinking about. Your hair, your skin, your dark brown eyes. The freckle just above your lip. You're something maddening and soothing, the firetrap seed and the aloeleaf balm, all wrapped into one, torturing me and tending to me day after day after endless day._

 _Things are too clear now. I have to see you. Will you see me?_

 _Secret Rebel_

It was…was it? It was a love letter.

Leia looked around her room, unsure of how to react to this fact. She'd never received such a thing and she'd never really desired to. It was silly, sort of old fashioned, and definitely out of line. But…

It was rather intriguing.

She flipped over to the front again looking for any clue as to who might have left it. The bright lights of Spiro gave her no clue, she'd been there once in her childhood but hadn't returned in years. And they certainly hadn't sent any missions there.

It had to be someone well-traveled.

And there was a tone, something about it, that made her think of familiarity. This person wasn't a stranger. His observations were keen and specific.

Or was it a her?

Leia looked up at the ceiling. She didn't have time for this. This was nonsense.

 _Things are too clear now. I have to see you. Will you see me?_

 _Will you see me?_

"How am I supposed to see you?"

* * *

Luke paced on the rug in Wedge's room having just finished telling him the sad tale of Han the Helper.

"So, he pulled out this box full of papers and wrote her a letter. He told me to slip it under her door and I did. I mean, what am I supposed to do now? Just…go with it? I think I have to tell him."

"Mmmm…" Wedge rumbled, "Do you?"

Luke's eyes bugged out. "Well, it's that or date Leia."

"You sure he's that good?"

"Oh, he's that good," Luke groused. "Our first year on base he slept with half the female personnel. And only because the other half were married."

Wedge laughed and rubbed his fingers along his jaw.

"So why's he so eager to help you?" Wedge asked.

Luke shrugged, not really in the mood for semantics. "The hell if I know what makes Han tick."

"Well, this has certainly put him in a position of control. But, who's he trying to control? Princess Leia or you?"

Luke gave Wedge a dumb stare, "Why would he wanna control me?"

Wedge shrugged, "Maybe he wants you for himself."

Luke's mouth fell open for the second time that night and he immediately snapped it shut.

"No. NO. Han's not into me…like that."

Wedge gave him a searching smile. "Oh, and how do you know?"

"I—I…I guess I don't," Luke grimaced. "That's exactly what I need…"

Wedge looked down at this, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck in away that set Luke's heart tripping.

"Not that—I mean, it has nothing to do with him being—I like guys—I mean, he's like my brother…I think."

Luke was blushing fiercely now and Wedge was giving him a full-on smile, leaning back on his hands, legs spread in a distractingly appealing sort of way.

"Well, that's a conversation for another time. Truth is, I don't really think Han's leaning that way…yet," he winked at Luke, "I think he's too hung up on Leia to see anyone else."

Luke shook his head balefully, unable to untwist the snarl that was his current mind state.

"Come here," Wedge said, patting the bed beside him. Luke obediently took a seat, starting as Wedge's hand came to rest on his back. He made lazy trails up and down as he spoke softly and methodically.

"Let's play this out. See if we can't catch him at his own game. Either way, we'll get a read on which way the wind is blowing."

"That sounds like cheating, Wedge," Luke said, voice coming out in a breathy sort of way as Wedge's fingers kneaded the nape of his neck.

"You think the other Rogues aren't doing it? This is a bet after all. All is fair in love and pranks."


	2. Chapter 2

Over the next few days, more missives came. There were a couple more postgrams, a scrap of paper slipped in with her morning memo, even a message in her alliance-issued data mail. She'd immediately responded but found the user blocked.

She wasn't sure whether to be annoyed or flattered. But, it was impossible not to look around every room she entered and wonder who the Secret Rebel might be. Every quick glance or lingering smile made Leia wonder.

"Whatcha reading there, your worship?"

Leia tried to stow the piece of paper away but wasn't quite fast enough for the street savvy fingers.

"You're the first thing on my mind every morning, the last thing before I go to sleep. It's your face I see when I fear the worst and your face I see when I hope for the best."

He skimmed the rest then chuckled to himself before sitting next to her with a thud.

"Is this a…love letter?"

Leia snatched it back and crushed it into a ball before slipping it in her pocket.

She'd smooth it out later.

"That is none of your business."

Han held up his hands, "Sorry, Princess, I'll let you get back to your glue.'

Leia looked down at the sticky porridge in front of her. _Don't say it, don't say it._

"Would that be so surprising?"

Han looked back at her, blankly.

"That I would receive…a love letter?" Leia felt herself blush at the very phrase.

"No," he said after a moment, "But, I'd think you'd want a guy who could say it to your face."

Leia shook her head, lips quirking just a bit.

"Say what exactly?"

"I love you."

Leia's heart stopped, catching in her throat and then pounding in her ears. All before she could remind it that he'd been SPEAKING. IN. THE. HYPOTHETICAL.

"Well," she said, swallowing the sudden lump in her throat. Damn porridge glue. "Sometimes a person enjoys a little mystery, a little finesse, maybe even a little flattery. It's," she searched for the word anywhere but his face, "nice."

"Nice…" He murmured, "nice. Huh. Didn't know that was what your were looking for."

After that conversation, she couldn't stop thinking of him with each new communication, with each heartfelt piece of scrawl. She would hold every new composition up next to that simple phrase, said in his voice, aimed directly at her, and she'd wonder which was better.

* * *

"So, what? Are you just gonna keep writing love notes to her?"

Han glanced up from a gadget he was tinkering with.

"Don't forget, kid, I'm doing this for you."

Luke glared at him and crossed his arms, all but tapping his foot.

"Patience, patience," Han chided. "It's a delicate job, winning a girl's heart."

"Oh yeah, is that your expertise? I thought it was in getting between a girl's—"

"Shhhhh," Han chided. He leaned closer to the little box in front of him and listened for a second. His fingers moved deftly, and his hand twisted ever so slightly. Suddenly, the box stood up on a little set of wheels. Its lights flashed, and it emitted a little series of bleeps.

"What is that?"

The little thing turned toward him and rolled toward the end of the holotable. Luke reached forward with a start, but it caught itself on little pinchers that extended as it lowered itself to the ground.

"That," Han said, watching the little thing wheel around the room efficiently, "is phase two."

* * *

There hadn't been a letter today. Leia tried not to focus on it, losing herself in logging in a new shipment of medical supplies and debriefing officers from a recent skirmish in the Outer Rim. But, when she returned to her quarters she couldn't help but hope there'd be something there waiting for her.

She opened her door, eyes straying immediately to the floor searching for a little piece of paper. Her eyes swept from her shoes to the edge of her bed, and she saw nothing but bare floor. With a sigh she turned to start the heat when she paused.

Bare floor?

She turned back and couldn't quite believe her eyes. Her room was spotless. Bed made and neatly tucked, clothes no where to be seen. Her papers were piled neatly on her bedside table.

Her heart started beating a little faster as she thought about who could have cleaned it.

Had he been here? How would he have gotten her code? Shouldn't she be more upset at the prospect?

She reached up to remove her jacket, feeling a little flushed with her wondering. Out of long bad habit she dropped it onto her floor.

 _Gloob-gloob-BLU-BLU_

Leia jumped as a little droid rolled out of the corner and scooped up her jacket, taking it to her closet. It rose on retractable legs and opened the door, hanging it neatly on a hanger. After closing the door, it shrank back to the size of a bread box as inanimate as a block of ice.

It practically blended into her floor. Except for the bright white piece of paper attached to it's top. Leia dove for it, yanking it off the droid and ripping it open.

 _Thought I didn't know your secret, huh? Don't worry, EQ-733 will keep it for you._

It wasn't really a love note, but it made Leia's heart soar.

* * *

Han hadn't been lying entirely. It was about money. Wasn't it always? Thing was, it wasn't the money that was keeping him here. It was the money that was taking him away.

Well, that and a handy little device implanted in his wrist.

Han rubbed the thing for the thousandth time as he contemplated his plight. Two more weeks till the thing blew. That meant eleven more days to complete his mission before he'd be hitting hyperspace to face his fate.

Eleven more days to make sure Leia was taken care of.

He rubbed his forehead as he thought about the mess he'd gotten himself into. It wasn't that he didn't think she could handle herself. She could run the whole damn base if she wanted to. Sort of already did. But, that was exactly it. She spent so much time and energy taking care of everyone else, she never managed to take care of herself.

Han had never considered himself to be a sensitive man. He was out for himself and maybe Chewie, that was it. But, the minute he'd realized he'd have to go and soon, he'd thought of Leia. Not of the pain of leaving her - that, he couldn't really fathom and chose not to focus on at all - but of all the little things that would cease to be once he left.

The meals she wouldn't eat because he wouldn't be there to shove a tray under her nose. The nights she would work herself to the bone because he wasn't inviting her to the Falcon. There she would more often then not curl into a ball of exhaustion on the acceleration couch. The only full nights of sleep she got were on his ship.

She wouldn't have the deep belly laughs he coaxed out of her with the help of a little fire whiskey. She wouldn't have the arms to hold her when she let it all out every once in a while. She wouldn't have that secret charge that lit the air whenever their eyes met across a room or their hands brushed under a table or they just happened to breathe in the same flick.

It would all be gone. Scattered between a hidden rebel base and the stomach of a Sarlacc.

He hadn't know what to do. About those things and the worry that accompanied their loss. They'd just gone round and round his head until he felt dizzy with it all. And the clock was ticking and the seconds were flicking by…and then Luke stumbled through his door and he had his solution.

It made a bizarre kind of sense after all. Luke had been the first one to love her. Before Han could wrap his head around a ball of fury that size and shape, Luke had had moon eyes the size of suns.

So he'd help him out. He'd get him the girl. They'd have each other, and he could do what needed to be done.

He didn't realize that in helping Luke he'd be giving himself parting gift. Up until now, he'd never known quite what to say to Leia. First she'd been so sad, and then she'd been so young, and then when both those things weren't such large concerns, she'd just been Leia.

One moment she'd be hard as nails, the next sweet as sugar. When he would banter with her, she'd want seriousness. When he'd get serious (usually in the midst of some life-threatening situation) she sass him and smirk his own damn smirk. One minute, he was sure he was too far beneath her to register on her radar and the next they were right there with each other, teetering on the brink of something life-altering…and frankly terrifying.

Now, under the guise of Luke, things were different. Now, he wasn't hampered by insecurity either of what she thought of him or what might be coming down the pike. Now, he was free to say exactly what he wanted without consequence.

Maybe it was cowardly, but it was for a good cause, so he'd let himself off the hook.

(Han was very good at letting himself off the hook.)

Today had been a treat. She'd looked so forlorn when she'd gotten to the lunch table, eyes darting around the room, cheeks flushing whenever she'd catch him catching her. When he'd asked her where her love letter was, she'd barely covered up her disappointment before changing the subject.

He didn't want her to suffer, but he couldn't help the warm feeling deep in his belly at the thought of her missing him. At the thought of her wanting to hear his words.

He'd upped the ante today, adding actions to those words. What had started as a strategic mission (and one that made him feel slightly queasy) had grown into something greater, something sacred. His one and only chance to show her how much she meant to him.

Sure, she wouldn't know it was him, but he was finding strangely that that mattered less than he'd thought. He just wanted her to be happy, to know she was loved.

Oh, how she was loved.

Rubbing the detonator once more, he sent Favra a lone grateful thought amidst the murderous ones he'd been sending her since Ord Mantell. She may have given him a death sentence, but she'd also given him a gift. Time. Time to say goodbye in whatever way he chose.

Well, this was his way. At least he'd go down smiling.

* * *

"I think she wants to meet you, kid."

Luke froze as he climbed down the ladder of his X-Wing. He'd just returned from a particularly grueling flight drill and the last thing he wanted to do was play matchmaker with Han Solo.

"You mean she wants to meet you?" he said tiredly, sliding the rest of the way down to the icy floor.

"She wants to meet the guy who loves her," he said, "And that's you, right?"

Luke turned to face him, swiping at a lock of hair in his eyes. He was getting really tired of this game. Of course he loved Leia, he'd loved her since the day he met her, but that love had never really been what he'd thought it was. It was sweet and comfortable, not the hot, leaping excitement he felt around Wedge (and Biggs too, if he were honest.)

"I do love her, Han. But so do—"

"Yeah," the smuggler said, look out into the hangar. "So, I'm gonna pull the trigger. Set up a date, you'll show up, and the rest'll be history."

He rubbed his wrist a bit then smiled down at Luke.

"You can thank me later."

* * *

 _Anon: So, how about a date?_

Leia started as a message appeared in the top right corner of her datapad. She'd been sitting in her closet of an office, skimming through the latest status reports on the Empire's auxiliary forces.

 _LO: Who is this?_

Her heart thudded none-too-gently in her chest as she waited for a response.

 _Anon: You really think I'm gonna tell you now after all this effort?_

She couldn't help the little laugh that escaped as she responded.

 _LO: You know, I am part of command. I could find out who you are._

 _Anon: So, why haven't you?_

Leia contemplated this for a moment, thinking of the last week and a half. It had been fun, so much fun being part of a mystery. It had been something to distract her from all the rest of it, something to warm her in this freezing place. She decided to answer honestly.

 _LO: And ruin the fun?_

 _Anon: Haha. That's my girl._

 _LO: Send me a few letters and gifts and I'm 'your' girl?_

 _Anon: Hey, they were good gifts._

Leia glanced at the most recent, a box carved in Alderaanian spruce which housed sixteen compartments full of seeds native to Alderaan. Starflowers, arallutes, t'iils, even gingerbells. There were cooking plants and acorns from oro woods and uwas. The message read, "Couldn't get you the flowers you wanted, so I figured I'd let you grow them."

 _LO: The flowers were beautiful._

 _Anon: I was inspired._

Leia couldn't help herself.

 _LO: I want to see you._

 _Anon: (…)_

Leia stared at the screen. What did that mean? Wasn't seeing each other the whole point of this? Oh Gods—

 _Anon: That's what I was hoping you'd say._

Leia sighed. Feeling ridiculous and validated all at once.

 _LO: So, when?_

 _Anon: Meet me in Hangar 12 at midnight._


	3. Chapter 3

"Wedge, this has gone too far!" Luke said the moment the door swished closed.

Wedge looked at him questioningly. He was half way through stripping off his flight suit, so the sleeves hung down around his hips. Luke colored at the sight of his bare arms, exposed by the white tank he wore beneath.

He shook his head to clear it and resume his war path.

"He wants me to meet her. Tonight! I'm not doing this to Leia. I'm not doing this to me!"

He wrung his hands together, pacing on the rug. He'd face off against the worst war machines of the Empire, and yet the prospect of hurting Leia made him quake in his boots.

Wedge moved so stealthily, Luke barely registered it. He took look by the shoulders and turned him to face him.

"So, what do you think we should do?"

He glared at Wedge, suddenly hating him and his wonderful face. If Luke hadn't been so gaga for the man, he would never have agreed to this.

Wedge looked back at him, some mysterious thought clicking into place behind his dark eyes.

"I have an idea," Wedge said, voice a little lower than it had been a moment ago.

Luke swallowed against the sudden surge of desire, "Yeah, and what's that?"

"Well," Wedge said, hand skimming his arm, the cradling his neck. "It involves me kissing you."

Luke's eyes went wide and his breath caught in his throat.

"Would you be willing to try that?" Wedge asked, fingers slipping into Luke's hair.

Luke couldn't form the words, mouth ever-so-slightly agape, but he gave a dazed nod.

Then Wedge's lips were touching his, and Wedge's arms were slipping around him, and Luke was realizing that he'd never even really known what happiness was until now.

* * *

Leia didn't know why she was here.

She'd washed her hair and put on some makeup. She had borrowed a dress and even wrapped in her Alliance-issue coat, she knew she looked good.

She was due at Hangar 12 in a half an hour.

And, yet, she was standing at the ramp of the Falcon.

A warm spill of yellow light came down the ramp, and she could envision Chewie and Han sitting at the holochess table, one reading a manual, one tinkering with something small.

They were fine. They didn't need her. It was time to move on with her life, to meet someone new.

But, she still wandered up the ramp, as she had done so many nights before.

The scene wasn't dissimilar to what she'd imagined.

Han sat at the holochess table, both a manual and an array of tools in front of him. But, he didn't look relaxed or absorbed the way he usually did at an hour like this. His leg bounced restlessly and his eyes kept darting toward a nondescript corner of the ship. His hand raked through his hair and he sighed raggedly.

"Han."

He jumped two metims - not a usual Han Solo reaction - and turned to see her.

"Leia," he breathed, taking in her rather sultry form. "What are you doing here?"

She shrugged then gestured to his stalled project, "Are you busy?"

He looked down at the mess, "Nah, but aren't you—I mean, you look like you're going somewhere."

Leia walked past him and slid into the acceleration couch feeling a little bit relaxed for the first time since the date had been set.

"Is that a compliment, captain?"

Han stared at her, the expression on his face an odd mix of discomfort and good humor.

"Isn't it always, Princess?"

Leia looked back, wanting very, very much to be the kind of woman she wasn't.

"I have a date tonight," she said, voice sounding much calmer than she felt.

Han barely reacted.

"With a man," she said, then. "I think."

His lips quirked and he finally looked away, fingers drumming on the table.

"The one from the letter?" he asked.

Leia sighed, "The very same."

Han looked back at her, "You don't sound too excited."

"I'm…nervous," she admitted, fiddling with the tie on her coat.

Han laughed a little under his breath, "You? Nervous? Yeah, right."

He got up and disappeared into the galley for a flick, and again Leia wondered what she was doing here. Why her heart ached at the thought of leaving.

He returned, this time to her side of the acceleration couch. In a practiced move, she scooted in and he sat down next to her, pouring both of them a drink. They both tapped the bottom of the glass and twined arms for a moment, clinking their rims and saying softly, "Chakta sai kae."

It was a Corellian toast, one Han had taught her a few months into his time with the rebels. They often sat at this table and shared little tidbits from their past like this, slowly but surely building a fuller picture of themselves than the one that nature presented.

With the flow of liquor came a flood of intuition. All the meals and the missions and the nights together like this. There was no one on base who knew her like Han. From early on, she'd never felt the need to hide herself from him, at first because she felt no need to impress him and then because she'd realized that was the _only_ way to impress him.

Before she could voice her thoughts, Han was already speaking.

"Feeling nervous now?"

Leia nodded, thoughts scattered by his sudden closeness. He wasn't touching her, but his face was centims away and his breath tickled her chin.

"You got nothing to be nervous about, Leia. You got somebody who loves you."

Leia frowned, unable to fathom anything, or anyone, beyond this moment

"And what if I don't love them?"

Han's fingers found hers where they were still wrapped around her glass.

"You will," he said, "You probably already do."

 _I love you._

"Han…" Leia breathed, leaning closer to the man who was right in front her.

* * *

He knew he shouldn't kiss her. His plan was almost complete, the last loose end about to be tied so neatly. But, there she was, hair glossy and eyes smokey, lips looking sweet as sugarberries.

What would one kiss do? One kiss to take with him to his…

"Hey guys!"

The voice shot through him like a taser beam, not only 'cause of the shock but 'cause it belonged to—

"Luke?"

Han wheeled around, feeling guilty and flustered at the intrusion. What in Kest was the kid doing here? Should't he be all spiffed up and waiting in an X-wing hanger? And why in all the seven hells was he wrapped around Wedge Antilles like a mynock on a power cable?

"What are you two up to?" Wedge asked, eyes narrowing merrily at the scene.

"Nothing," Han said standing like he'd been scalded. "What about you?"

"Oh us?" Luke asked, eyes darting between Leia and Han. "We're on a date."

Han's eyes widened comically, "A date?! You're on—"

Leia's voice cut him off as she eased herself out of the acceleration couch, "A date. How lovely," he could hear the smile in her voice.

"But," Han sputtered, "But I thought—"

"Han, I never pegged you as close-minded," Leia chided, "Command and I have been betting on this one for years."

Luke and Wedge looked at each other, then back at them, and burst out laughing.

Leia chuckled along, while Han simply steamed.

"Well, speaking of dates…" Leia said, studiously avoiding Han while she gave Luke a hug and Wedge a pat on the shoulder. "We'll have to compare notes tomorrow at the mess."

With that, she slipped out of the room and the moment her footsteps faded, Han's voice thundered.

"Luke Skywalker, take your hands off that pilot and go after that girl."

They all blinked as Han's statement sunk in.

"Why does he remind me so much of my father?" Wedge asked no one in particular.

Han raked his fingers through his hair and looked slightly apologetic.

"Look, it's not that I—You two are cute—but Luke and I had an agreement, Leia's waiting—"

"For the guy who loves her," Luke said, stepping away from Wedge but still holding his hand. "And that's you, Han."

Han looked between them, mouth hanging open in a very good impression of Luke a couple weeks before. He took a breath, frowned, then…

"I know."

Wedge and Luke gawped at each other in triumph, their smiles fading as they took in the devastation on Han's face.

"I love her, okay? But as of three and a half weeks ago, I'm dead meat. So I thought I might as well leave her with some—"

"Wait, back up, back up," Luke said. "Dead meat?"

Han held up his wrist waving it around until Luke started waving back.

"Hello to you too?"

"It's a deto-tracker, the hottest tech in the bounty hunter trade. I ran into an ex on Ord Mantell and she shot me with this. It goes off in approximately three days if I don't get back to Jabba."

"Why wouldn't she just kill you?" Wedge asked, all business now, "Or take you with her?"

"We broke up on good terms," Han sighed, "Said she wanted to give me time to pay him back."

"And you've been sitting around here writing love letters?!" Luke cried.

Han smiled faintly, looking toward the Falcons boarding ramp, "Turns out there is more to me than money."

"Wait, let me see that."

Luke was reaching for his wrist before Han could snatch it away. He felt around the skin, probing it with a finger, lifting it to his ear.

"Han, I'm pretty sure—"

"It's almost midnight," Han growled. "She's gonna be out there alone—"

And before Luke could say another word, Han was sprinting out the door.

* * *

"Look, Princess, this wasn't how things were supposed to go down."

Leia whirled to find Han striding toward her, hands jammed in his pocket and a stormy expression on his face. She'd been standing in the empty hangar bay for the last few minutes and whatever patience she'd had when she'd arrived had been chipped away by the cold.

"What are you talking about?"

"This was supposed to be a damn fairy story, with the Princess and the Jedi and a happy ending…for most people involved."

"Han, I don't understand…"

"Luke," he said, "Luke was supposed to be here."

Leia frowned.

"Luke, was supposed to be here doing what?"

"Sweeping you off your feet!"

"But," Leia looked back toward the Falcon, then at Han, speaking very slowly. "Luke's gay."

Han growled. "Since when? Two weeks ago, he was on my ship telling me how much he loved you!"

"Wait, so Luke is the Secret Rebel?" Leia said, truly looking lost now.

"No! I mean! Yes. I mean…" Han dropped his face into his hands and gave it a good scrub.

Leia crossed her arms and gave him a good glare. Her frostiest, colder than the coldest night on Hoth.

"What do you mean?"

"I knew I had to go, Princess. And this time it isn't just an empty threat. It's that or blow this base to smithereens. And Luke came to tell me he was going to ask you out, and I figured I could help him, make sure you two were okay. I didn't mean for it to get so involved, I was just gonna get the ball rolling but then I kept writing and got tinkering and I had a few things I'd been meaning to give you and it just…"

He was stopped by the feel of Leia's hands on his cheeks. She pulled his face to look at her and gave him a long stare. There was fear there and regret mingled with a sad sort of longing.

"You wrote those letters? And sent those gifts?"

He took a breath, but only nodded.

Leia lifted herself up on her tiptoes and, before she could think better of it, kissed him. His mouth went slack against hers for a flick, but then he was kissing her back, arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her higher and closer. Leia's arms twined about his neck and into his hair, their mouths fused by a fireworks display of sighs and sensation.

They'd have gone on like this for quite some time if a cheer hadn't gone up from the x-wings behind them. Panting, the pair broke apart (but not far apart) and watched in astonishment as the Rogues climbed down from their hiding places.

"What did I tell you?" Wedge's voice came from around the corner, "Read 'em and weep boys."

Luke hit Wedge upside the head and jogged over to where Han stood. The spacer looking about ready to murder someone.

"This isn't a joke, Luke. It may look sweet now, but remember that whole thing about dead meat?"

"I'm sorry, why are we talking about dead meat?" said Leia.

"There's not gonna be any dead meat!" Luke said. He grabbed Han's arm and pointed to his wrist. "This is just a transmitter. My uncle used to pull them off Jabba's runaways. His family were abolitionists since my grandmother had been a slave. I loaded Threepio with deactivating software before we left home…"

"What are you saying, kid?"

"I'm saying you can keep kissing Leia and I can keep kissing Wedge and the Rogues can start betting on our wedding dates or kids or whether the Emperor wears boxers or briefs."

The whole room let out a groan at that.

"Why, Luke, why?" Hobbie moaned.

"It means," Luke said more quietly, "you can always count on your friends. So, no more secrets. Whether they be Secret Rebels or secret death threats. We're in this together."

* * *

Luke pulled out a comm to locate Threepio, while Wedge and the other pilots chatted, eagerly exchanging credits. And Leia pulled Han into another kiss. He still couldn't quite believe what Luke had said, wouldn't believe until the chip had been deactivated and removed from his arm (which it would be the next morning but not without some tears on his part.)

But for now, he was content to bask in the warmth of Leia's affection, deciding that, yes, it did matter that she knew it was him. Leia pulled away for a breath and he dropped a few kisses on her soft cheeks and brow.

"So," she whispered, "what are we doing tonight?"

Han laughed, burying his face in her neck and breathing her in.

"I think it's your turn to plan something, Princess."

The End


End file.
